


The Wisdom of the Poetess

by Island_of_Reil



Category: The Goblin Emperor - Katherine Addison
Genre: Always-A-Girl!Csevet, Always-A-Girl!Maia, Cunnilingus, F/F, Genderswap, In Medias Res, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Rule 63, Scissoring, Shame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:20:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23950699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Island_of_Reil/pseuds/Island_of_Reil
Summary: Cseveän teaches Maiano not to be ashamed of what the gods have given them.
Relationships: Csevet Aisava/Maia Drazhar
Comments: 16
Kudos: 21
Collections: The Goblin Emperor Filthfest 2020





	The Wisdom of the Poetess

“Cseveän, what art…” Maiano asked breathlessly as Cseveän, who had been kissing the trembling plain of her belly, began to move further down. Cseveän grinned and winked at her as she gently parted Maiano’s long, slender thighs, then drew her open with her thumbs.

Maiano was blushing now, a tinting of her slate-gray skin to lavender that one had to know her well to notice. But Cseveän was much more entranced by the colors before her: a dark orchid, shading to mulberry and then to the deepest hue of wine. The lips of her empress’s cunt were soft and petulant, glistening with her excitement. Cseveän, mouth watering, could not refrain from drawing her tongue experimentally straight up the center of her.

Maiano yelped — “Cstheïs Caireizhas!” — and jolted.

Cseveän murmured, “Lik’st that, then?” The reply was a soft whine, and Maiano throwing her arm over her face. “Ah, I must teach thee not to be so ashamed,” Cseveän said. “Did not the gods fashion our bodies so?”

“Well, yes, but…” Maiano trailed off, peeking at Cseveän from beneath her arm.

“Then is’t not an impiety,” Cseveän pressed, “to feel shame at the pleasure we can take from them?”

“I don’t know,” Maiano said, looking woebegone. “Cousin Sethero said many times that only harlots seek pleasure without shame.”

 _That wretched woman._ Cseveän did not betray the twist of anger in her gut upon her face, in her voice, or in the set of her ears. She smiled, planted a gentle kiss upon Maiano’s pubic mound, and said, “I will take thy mind _entirely_ off Osmerrem Nelaran and her very mistaken notions.” And then settled her face back between her empress’s thighs.

Maiano was delicious, exuding a soft musk that was clean with youth, health, and the thorough ablutions of her nohecharoi. Her moans were like the sweetest of lute-notes, and she writhed so prettily, too: her small breasts with their garnet nipples bouncing against her ribcage, the muscles in her belly rippling like waves upon the night sea. Cseveän, eyes closed, reached upward and cupped those little apples, gently pinching and rolling the hardened nipples between her fingertips, as she continued to lick Maiano open.

Maiano’s bead swelled under its little cowl, fairly begging for the caress of Cseveän’s tongue. Cseveän judiciously avoided it for long, long minutes. Did Maiano even know what it was called? In sooth, even if she did, Cseveän doubted she would dare plead for it to be attended to. But, in time, when Maiano had blossomed like a rose in summer and Cseveän’s cheeks and nose were damp with her nectar, Cseveän moved upward and captured the firm little berry between her lips.

Her empress cried out loudly at this, her hips bucking wildly. Cseveän released her breasts to cup her lovely oval buttocks instead, anchoring her in place, and continued to mouth at her bead, sucking gently, then pulling back to trace its contours with her tongue. She could feel Maiano’s muscles grow taut under her hands with the approach of her climax, and Maiano’s utterances grow more staccato, less coherent. Just as Maiano hovered over the peak, Cseveän took the entire bead into her mouth and sucked upon it as hard as she could. Maiano shrieked, spasmed, and ground her cunt against Cseveän’s mouth and jaw. It hurt a little and it was hard to breathe and it was the most wondrous thing Cseveän could have dreamed of.

A moment later she gazed up at her sovereign lying ink-dark and languid against the white silk linens, eyelashes fluttering, lips parted, nipples still hard. “Shouldst be painted just as thou art right now,” she said hoarsely.

Maiano, still in her swoon of pleasure, made no objection to this idea. But, in a few moments, her eyes opened wide and dark, and she held out her arms to Cseveän. “Shouldst have thy pleasure too,” she said, gravely and huskily.

Cseveän pulled herself up to rest against Maiano’s breasts and belly and to seek her mouth with her own, to share her taste with her. As Maiano murmured dazedly against her lips, Cseveän threw her left thigh over Maiano’s right and bore down upon her body.

“Oh,” Maiano said, blinking up at her.

Cseveän moved her hips, softness seeking softness, wetness sliding against wetness. “Tell me if it chafes thee, and I’ll get oil,” she whispered, kissing her again, and then she began to grind.

It was sweet beyond all imaginings: their most intimate parts in communion, the flows of their arousal commingling, Maiano’s delicate frame pressed tight against Cseveän’s leanly muscled one, the one’s breasts bobbing and pushing against the other’s as Cseveän rocked back and forth. It was a position that required no little vigor from the one who moved upon the other, but a courier’s thighs were as strong and as flexible as a new-made bow — and the girls’ dormitory was an excellent place to learn how to put such muscles to optimal use. Eyes tightly closed, Cseveän chased her peak as Anmuro’s chariot chased the clouds across the sky until it burst within her, brilliant as sunset.

Still moaning softly, she let herself fall onto Maiano, taking care to spare her empress the bulk of her weight. Maiano stroked her unbound hair in long, smooth motions, while Cseveän wound a little curl around her finger over and over. At length, she said, “Dost know why it’s called a bead?”

“Why it’s … oh.” Maiano blushed again. “Because of the shape and size, I presume?”

“Yes, but not only that,” Cseveän said wickedly. “As Amu Carcelethned wrote, it’s because one cries out unto one’s god as one rubs it.”

“That’s … well.” Maiano’s lips twitched, even as her blush deepened. “It was very clever on her part, I must admit.”

“The poetess was nothing if not clever. And wise,” Cseveän added with a smile, brushing damp and disarrayed curls back from Maiano’s forehead that she could touch her lips to it.


End file.
